Darkness Rises Once More
by MightyMerlin
Summary: Over 400 years ago, the Dragonborn defeated the World Eater. Skyrim has changed since the disappearance of Morgan Aurelius over 300 years ago and yet, there are whispers, rumours of a treasure lost to time, ready for the taking. But the questions remain. Why did she leave, where did she go? And most importantly, what will she think when she returns to find her home being invaded?
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

**AN: I got impatient and not to mention trying to figure out how to continue writing the 'Ashen Souls' story without getting irritated and restarting the chapter... that has happened 4 times now, so I can only apologise. I will continue writing Ashen Souls and Path of the Dragonborn when time allows of course (and maybe when I stop tearing my hair out at how bad I am at updating, so again, sorry!)**

**Thanks to everyone who sends messages, reviews or even reads a little of my stories, it does mean so much to me :)**

**So here is the newest story of Morgan Aurelius, but with a little twist..read on to find out what I mean ;)**

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**4E 607, Dawnstar, Skyrim**

"_Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart._

_I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonbor...AGH!"_

Darvasa Ulenas looked up sharply as the unfortunate bard received a tankard to the face, still half full of strong Nordic ale. She winced as she noted the broken nose and the torrent of blood that flowed from the bard's nostrils, and only looked back at her papers when the tavern owner helped the bard away from the room with the jeers of the local Nords issuing from every direction.

_Barbarians._

Glancing back at her notes again, she twirled her quill around her fingers as she tried to make sense of what was in front of her. Nearly twenty years of research lay on the table in front of her, most of it her own. There were the tattered notes left from ancient warriors known as the 'Stormcloaks', men and women of Skyrim that had fought for their independence against the tyrannical Empire.

At least, that was what the notes claimed.

There were the scattered sightings of a mysterious figure dressed in black and red armour, all of them ranging from a few years to several centuries old. The one thing they all had in common was the description of the figure.

Darvasa looked at the artist's drawing and she couldn't help but smile a little.

The Dragonborn herself, smiling and completely at ease, wearing a long dress that pooled around her feet and clung to her hips and body like a second skin. Long hair, delicate facial features and of course, the set of fangs that could easily be seen with a sensuous mouth.

The drawing had been found in the ruins of Whiterun of all places, a ruin that had been a bandit stronghold for many years now. Darvasa had already published many papers about the ancient city, most of them rejected by the other scholars of her generation as the 'flights of fancy' and other, more insulting remarks. Yet she knew she was correct in her findings as she had been the one to infiltrate the bandit city and find the drawing, along with other interesting objects.

Such as the small dagger that was attached to her hip.

It was nothing special by any means. At first glance, it seemed to be a regular steel dagger with a smooth wooden pommel and a blade that was barely sharp enough to cut bread. But if anyone were to look closer, they would see the initials carved into the pommel.

R.A

No-one knew what had happened to Runa Aurelius, one of the adopted daughters of the Dragonborn, but Darvasa knew that this dagger was the one that had killed an Emperor only a mere sixty years ago, the dagger being found embedded within the corpse on a night where the dragons had seemed to vanish from every continent in Tamriel.

Darvasa then glanced around to see if any of her fellow companions had noticed the bard's song being cut short.

"Yeah! That shut the bitch up! Let's have a PROPER song. A song for the Nords!" Frodar the Fearless roared as he stood up, his massive seven feet three-inch frame dwarfing every other person in the tavern.

There had been much speculation about how such a monster of a man had been created. Darvasa liked to think that he had been birthed by a mammoth and a giant. But he was rather smarter than many warriors, showing an aptitude for a cautious approach when it came to a fight.

_Most of the time at least._

The two Argonians were sitting across from her, their eyes narrowed in wariness as they looked back at her. Darvasa couldn't blame them. Dawnstar was a Nord village at heart and not many of the other races stayed here long for fear of being ostracised. Or worse. Alaxate and Amusei were husband and wife respectively, and had been extremely eager to join this little venture.

Of course, they were tomb robbers and expert thieves, but Darvasa preferred their company over most of the others. Speaking of which...

Yes, there they were. Eduard and Karina Marelus of Bruma, Cyrodiil. The major monetary backers of the expedition, they had agreed only after being promised the land where the Dragonborn's home was said to be. The Jarl of Dawnstar had accepted the gold of course, and the Imperials were eager to set off by the looks of things, both of them glaring at Darvasa with identical impatient expressions.

"Have you figured it out yet?"

Darvasa smiled slightly as the tall altmer sat down next to her, passing her a mug of weak ale. Larorian was an enigma to everyone, yet there was no doubt he was the strongest when it came to magical expertise. But she had to admit he was too good at deflecting questions about his past life, always answering a question with a question. Darvasa flushed when he raised his eyebrow before glancing at the map laid out before her.

"I have narrowed it down but none of these maps have any markers showing a building anywhere near. The only ruin close is what used to be some farm of some kind," she explained, a slender finger pointing to the area indicated.

Larorian smiled.

"I believe you are correct. Remember, it has been over four hundred years since the house was constructed and while the Dragonborn had immense power, I doubt even she could move a house and every item within, even with a dragon helping her."

Darvasa nodded. Four hundred and six years ago, the Dragonborn had defeated a demigod in combat. The World Eater, Alduin. Firstborn of Akatosh and the first ever dragon created by the god of Time. She had defeated an ancient and powerful vampire lord soon afterwards, only to be turned into one of the undead by a vampire that seemed to defy any known magical logic when it came to her prowess at necromancy.

Morgan Aurelius had then fought against another Dragonborn, and the island of Solstheim had fallen into the sea. Only a sixth of the island remained, and every inch of it was littered with ash and bones. It was a dead place now, long since forgotten by the rest of the world.

As if sensing her train of thought, another set of voices joined the conversation.

"Heh, would had loved to have seen that. An entire fucking island!"

Angeline Adeleis was a Breton battlemage of unimaginable power, one of only three in four hundred years that had beaten the records set by the Dragonborn when it came to use of fire magic. At twenty years old, she was young, but having already been though a war at the age of sixteen and surviving, none questioned her ability.

"Yeah, right up to the moment when you sank into the waves and were crushed under immense water pressure," Bargrug the Wise muttered as he drained his tankard, his tusks turning into a grin.

Bargrug was almost as tall as Frodar, and yet, for an orc, he was rather quiet and only spoke when he felt he needed to. Seeing Angeline flush with slight embarrassment, the old orc chuckled and thumped the battlemage on the back.

"Ah, don't let my words hurt you, I am just an old orc after all."

"And yet, words can hurt in more than one way."

Darvasa shuddered as Khajiit joined in. Everything about Dro'Barri screamed 'insane', not to mention 'dangerous'. From his all black attire to the two ebony daggers strapped to his thighs, the young man was a capable and dangerous fighter.

_And the one who sneaked into the Imperial Palace just to have a quick shag with the previous Empress._

Darvasa had heard about how the Empress had been hung the day afterwards at the order of the current Emperor, Janus III, and there had been talk that Dro'Barri had been the one to leak the information out into the public in the first place.

"Isn't that correct, Lady Darvasa?" he purred with a smile.

Darvasa smiled back at him.

"The thu'um, yes. I know what you speak of. Of course, there are no know practitioners of the ancient Nord art any longer, not since the destruction of the Greybeard Temple ninety years ago," she lectured, noting how a few of the Nords in the tavern were now listening in.

"But it could be learned by anyone, yes?"

Ahtar was a huge Redguard yet was dwarfed by the orc and the Nord that were now sitting at the table, but his one remaining eye was fixed on hers with a steady gaze. She never asked how his other eye had ended up like the way it was, but the four scratch marks that cut onto his face matched those of a human.

Or rather, a human with claws. A vampire.

"Of course. But it would take years to learn even a single Word of Power through the constant meditative techniques required to understand the dragon language. For someone as educated as Angeline for example, it might take her a decade to unlock the meaning. And then you would have to learn how to project the energy needed to form a Word into a thu'um," she explained, sipping from the ale and sighing as three Nords all bellowed at the same time:

"Ulfric learned them in less time!"

"Ulfric Stormcloak was an extremely intelligent person," Darvasa replied "And yet he also had difficulty learning the Words of Unrelenting Force until he realised that emotions also come into play when it comes to using the thu'um."

"Anger."

Darvasa nodded to the small bosmer male that sat next to her. Ligorn was another who she knew nothing about, yet she noted he always scanned every room he went into for threats, for as long as he was in that room. She didn't know why he was so paranoid yet she never asked him as to why. The small grin her gave her didn't help either.

_He is so cute._

"Yes. Anger is an emotion that Ulfric used to gain his mastery of Unrelenting Force..."

She paused as the cheers continued for some time.

"And yet, compared to a dragon or a Dragonborn, Ulfric's thu'um was considered to be weak. He had even admitted it a few days before the Battle of Windhelm, where he would ultimately lose his life on the field."

Darvasa found the parchment she needed and cleared her throat.

"_I remember the first time I used that Shout on a dragon. It was that big red bastard as well. I used all three Words. The same Words I used to defeat the brave King Torygg in single combat. The bloody lizard laughed at me! I don't think I even dented his scales. He said 'it was strong for a mortal', cheeky bastard. But I think was right, Galmar. I should use the Power for other mortals and leave the dragon killing to our spears and axes. Now, let us feast and cleave that bitch's head off in the morning!"_

"That was written by Jarl Ulfric's steward, signed and dated," Darvasa clarified as she showed the ancient parchment, the date easily seen despite the tattered fibres.

"That bitch cheated though, it wasn't a fair fight," one Nord muttered.

"Pah! He should have had archers fire a thousand arrows into the Imperial dogs, even a fucking vampire cannot avoid that!" another yelled.

Darvasa nodded to the others, and as the fight started to break out in the tavern, the party of twelve made themselves scarce in the mayhem, only speaking when they had left Dawnstar entirely.

"Had to open your gob about the fucking Dragonborn didn't you," Frodar muttered.

"In case you didn't notice, it's because of ME that you are even here," Darvasa retorted as she started walking, the others following close behind. "It was MY research that got us here. MY travelling across Tamriel to find each of you for help, advice and gold, and it is because of ME that we are close to finding the whereabouts of the most feared warrior since Tiber Septim, so just shut the fuck up and help me find this fucking house!"

There were a few moments of quiet before the massive Nord chuckled, the orc and the rest following soon afterwards.

"You know, for a dunmer, you have one hell of a bad mouth," he wheezed.

Darvasa frowned and couldn't help but giggle soon afterwards. She patted the bulging biceps on the Nord and continued walking south to their destination.

_Heljarchen Hall, here we come!_

* * *

Inside the tavern, the brawl had subsided and the patrons were once again back to drinking, gambling and arguing as normal. The bard and tavern owner standing at the bar had seen the expedition party leave and both agreed on the same thing.

It would be better to not tell anyone else where they had gone. Hundreds had gone missing over the years in the search for the Dragonborn's home and both of them had the same uncomfortable feeling in their guts when the name 'Dragonborn' ever came up in conversation.

The bard had explained she had started that song as a paying patron had asked for it.

And yet, when the two of them looked over to the darkest area of the tavern, the two figures that had been sitting there the entire night were nowhere to be seen. Indeed, the only way they would know that someone had sat there was a half-drank bottle of strong Summerset vintage, three hundred years old.

The next morning, the bard and tavern owner would be found dead in their beds, bodies drained of blood and a nightshade left inside their open mouths.


	2. Chapter 2: The Barrier

**AN: Thanks for the reviews, alerts etc :) Here you go! (a fairly quick update by my standards :P)**

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"Come on, you fu... there, got it!"

Darvasa grinned as the normally unflappable altmer cursed, his hands alight with fire. After three failed attempts, the fire had finally caught on the pile of wood, lighting the ruins with a warm light. She nodded in thanks as he sat beside her, looking at her map.

"It must be here. Illusion magic, perhaps?" he theorised, rubbing his hands over the now blazing fire.

Darvasa glanced at the other party members before replying. It had taken two days from Dawnstar to get to their current location. Two days of walking through a veritable storm of snow and ice. The roads had been clear thankfully, and the only sign of life they had seen was a pair of giants that were wandering away from them, a pair of mammoths close behind.

_We probably should have waited until the spring season before coming here. Winter in Skyrim claims more lives than most wars._

Still, they had gotten here safely and with no injuries of any kind. They were grouped inside the ruins of a windmill, a thick fur tarp covering the hole above them to keep the snow out and the heat within. None of them had complained yet, but Darvasa knew that that wouldn't last long.

"It may be, but neither you nor Angeline detected any illusion anchors close by," she replied, running her hand through her long black hair in frustration. "Not unless the Dragonborn somehow cheated the laws of magicka."

"I doubt that my dear, I think we are overlooking something," he replied softly.

"Blood magic," another voice chimed in.

Darvasa looked over at the bosmer that was leaning against the wall, his eyes scanning the hills nearby. The diminutive elf hadn't said anything during the trek, yet as always, he had been twitchy, always stopping and looking over his shoulder every ten minutes.

"Blood magic? Is that even a school?" Darvasa asked in confusion.

Ligorn smiled, even though he knew that none of the others could see it. He didn't think any of the others knew about it, but he was far more than a simple thief. Rubbing the small mark of the Nightingale on his wrist, he pointed to the cliffs nearby.

"You said yourself that this farm used to be very close to the home of the Dragonborn. And as everyone else has pointed out, there is no possible way that the Dragonborn managed to move an entire house and its contents without leaving any evidence."

"So, what are you saying?" Angeline asked as she stood beside the elf.

"My Mistress knows of the magic involved, and has informed me of its nature. It is an ancient magic, a form of magic lost to time," Ligorn explained quietly. "While the Dragonborn was gifted in magic, I believe it was her sire that erected a 'blood barrier' to hide the house from mortal eyes."

"You mean Nocturnal told you," Dro'Barri said flatly. "No doubt she expects something in return?"

Ligorn snorted.

"She doesn't talk to me in that way. She leaves hints, clues in my dreams. I have been thinking about it ever since we left Dawnstar."

"That explains why you were asleep for twenty hours," Darvasa grinned.

Ligorn smiled at her before looking back at the cliffs.

"It is there, on that ridge."

The rest of the group stood at the battered entrance of the windmill and quietly gazed at the area in question. A steep cliff on one side, a steep hill on the other, and in the middle seemed to be a plateau, filled with boulders and trees.

Angeline smiled.

"I see what he's implying now."

"I fucking don't," Frodar muttered.

"That hill," Darvasa replied. "Where did the boulders and trees come from? The boulders couldn't have rolled all the way down that slope and grouped together in a pile like that."

"And the trees are not only too close together to actually grow proper, but they are also trees not native to the area," Karina Marelus caught on soon afterwards. "Those trees are more suited to the areas in the Rift rather than that of the Pale."

"A blood illusion then," Ahtar muttered. "It's possible, vampires are capable of fooling mortals with their looks after all."

"High Queen Elisif did a superb job of that," Bargrug replied. "She fooled everyone for decades before her secret was exposed."

"Filthy fucking vampire," Frodar spat, as he hefted his massive steel greatsword from his harness and held the weapon on the floor as a leaning device. "So what are we waiting for?"

Larorian shook his head slightly.

"We shall have to wait until the snowstorm passes. If we venture out there right now in the middle of the night, we may freeze before we figure out how to bypass the barrier. Ligorn, you may want to get some sleep and receive some 'pointers' from Nocturnal as to how we proceed."

Ligorn nodded and moved to his sleeping rug and closed his eyes. He was sound asleep a few minutes later.

* * *

_The land was dead. No trees, no birds singing, just an empty expanse of nothing stretching as far as the eye could see. He glanced around in every direction, hoping to see a landmark of some kind as a point of reference._

_But there was nothing._

_**Look closer, Ligorn. See beyond your sight.**_

_He frowned. Nocturnal was infamous for her cryptic ways. Nevertheless, he took a small breath and focused his mind._

_There! Not ten feet away lay a chest, the lid closed tight._

_He walked towards the chest and knelt beside it, running his hands along the hinges, smiling when he felt the trap mechanisms within them. Deftly picking the traps, he ran his hands along the hinges again before resting his fingers on the latch, which was warm to the touch._

_**Caution, elf. The Void is never what it seems.**_

_Was that where he was? The realm of Sithis?_

_He grinned as he opened the latch, the chest lid swinging upwards to reveal..._

_Nothing._

_He was about to focus again when a pair of cold, white hands tipped with bloody talons wrapped around his neck and dragged him into the chest, into the dark..._

* * *

"It's alright Ligorn, you are safe!"

Ligorn winced as he opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, Darvasa straddling his chest and pinning his wrists down behind his head. His legs were pinned by the massive orc, the latter grunting in amusement as blood dripped from his jaw.

"Kicked me good there, might need another tusk," Bargrug chuckled.

Ligorn looked back at the dunmer on top of him and gave her a crooked grin.

"Bit soon don't you think, we haven't even had dinner yet."

"Arsehole," Darvasa smiled at him before letting go of his wrists and sitting upright.

"You were screaming some weird language and your body kept releasing smoke," Angeline told him softly as she helped Darvasa to her feet. "Took nearly all of us to keep you down and even then, you managed to nearly kick poor Bargrug's face off."

"Might have made me look prettier," the orc grinned as he also let go of the elf. "Care to explain what you saw?"

Ligorn grimaced.

"I know we cannot force our way through the barrier. That dream was telling me that we have to be very careful as to what we do. I have never had Nocturnal give me warnings in such a manner."

"Blood sacrifice. Yes, that would work."

Ligorn glanced at the altmer, the only one who hadn't assisted with keeping him secure. He didn't know how he knew this, he just did. _Another little trick that they know nothing of. Best it stays that way._

"_Give blood? Are you fucking crazy?!"_

Dro'Barri chuckled at the Imperials that had burst out identical words at the same time.

"I don't think we need all our blood. Just enough to pass through the barrier. I hope you know how much blood we need to lose, however. Dro'Barri thinks this blood barrier is a way to weaken any would-be home robbers. Not that I would know such things."

"Who said anything about our blood?" Frodar spoke up. "There's bandits everywhere. Let's find some of the bastards and throw them through the barrier and we sneak through without opening our veins to some bullshit blood magic."

Darvasa didn't know what was worse. The fact that Frodar had thought of something plausible, or the fact that she agreed with his method.

* * *

"This was a stupid idea!" Darvasa yelled as she ducked a wild swing from her opponent before lashing out with an overcharged blast of lightning, the air crackling with ozone as the blast slammed into the bandit and pinning him to the floor.

"It's working though!" Frodar replied gleefully as he threw two bandits into the windmill walls, chuckling when he heard a few ribs break from the impact.

The snowstorm had died down, to be replaced by clear skies the next morning. It had taken all of twenty minutes for Frodar and Ahtar to find some bandits close by and kite them towards the windmill.

"Shut up and take care of them!" Angeline roared as she blasted three enemies with a cone of fire, grinning as the bandits rolled in the snow to put the flames out, only to be eliminated by three arrows fired by Ligorn.

Darvasa grimaced she approached the bandit before her, a young man who was clutching his ribs as he attempted to crawl away from her. Kicking the hand that tried to stop her, she plunged that worn dagger into his neck and jumped away to avoid the pulse of arterial blood.

"Quick! Get a bandit and get ready!" She yelled as she dragged the dying body towards the plateau.

_I hope this works._

Holding the nearly dead bandit under the armpits, she passed through a cold wall of emptiness before tripping over something on the other side. She had heard the crunching noise but didn't wish to acknowledge it. But she had to, and she knew it. Dropping the body, she stared at the pile of bones that her feet rested on.

Thousands of bones, most of them men or mer in nature. There had to be hundreds of bodies here, all of them bereft of flesh, skin and blood.

"By Azura," she muttered as she crossed the bone-covered ground, aware of the others passing through the invisible barrier and hearing their curses at seeing what lay before them.

"Stormcloak armour, Legion, Dawnguard, bandit, Whiterun chest piece..." Angeline said softly as she made notes of the various armour types, ignoring the crunch of small bones breaking beneath her boots. "How many?"

"Hundreds," Ahtar replied as he stared at the building that loomed over them.

Heljarchen Hall was still standing, even after hundreds of years. The stone beams still seemed sturdy with only a little rot that any of them could see. The stone foundations looked almost new as well, although there were cracks and fissure running through many of it that Darvasa could see. A garden was located on the eastern side, and had deathbell and...

"Crimson nirnroot. Amazing!" Larorian exclaimed. "None of the Synod were able to grow them outside of Blackreach."

"You mean when Cyrodiil invaded Skyrim a hundred years ago on a dispute of unlawful marriage," Eduard Marelus said snottily, smirking when Frodar glared at him.

"I am more interested in the pile of bones," Bargrug said softly as he finished cutting the throats of the bandits they had dragged through the barrier. "The fact that the house still seems untouched implies that none of these would be thieves managed to get this far."

"Unless more traps lay in wait inside," Dro'Barri murmured loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Stop bickering!" Darvasa snarled. "Don't you see what this means? We are the first in hundreds of years to set foot here. Stormcloak, Legion and Dawnguard armours are all hundreds of years old! Only the bandit ones could be considered new..."

"Aside from this fellow," Angeline said as she crouched next to a corpse. One that still had flesh on the bones.

The group stared down at the corpse of a middle-aged Imperial, wearing silver and steel armour complete with giant pauldrons and a sturdy tower shield. One side of his body seemed melted, the other untouched, a broken steel sword still clutched in stiff fingers.

"A journal. Read it, Darvasa," Dro'barri purred as he passed a tattered journal to the expedition leader.

Motioning for the others to follow, they sat on the steps of the Dragonborns home and listened to what secrets this recent adventurer had to reveal.

* * *

_Turdas, 2__nd__ of Morning Star, 4E600_

_No good, there is a barrier in the way. I would have perished if not for the deer that wandered into it first. T'was a terrible sight to behold, seeing that majestic creature turn into a bloodless sack of fur within seconds. I need to set up camp nearby and think about what to do next._

_Fredas, 3__rd__ of Morning Star, 4E600_

_I have it! If I can find something to 'piggyback' through the barrier, I may be able to avoid the barriers defences and pass through! Perhaps a bandit or even a wolf will do..._

_Loredas, 4__th__ of Morning Star, 4E600_

_Fucking dragon! A big red one too! It passed overhead just as my unwilling bandit and I were to pass through the barrier! The bandit was incinerated by the fire but I managed to avoid some of it. My armour and flesh have fused on one side, but I am here! The bones...Oh shit, the doors opened! I..._

Silence reigned as darvasa closed the journal, her mind racing.

"A red dragon. Odahviing," she whispered. "I thought the dragons all left the provinces?"

"And only a mere six years ago," Larorian nodded. Clearly, the dragon in question was still active recently."

"He was the Dragonborns closest ally. So why would he not leave Skyrim? And how did he know that this unfortunate soul was attempting to enter the barrier?" Darvasa pressed for answers.

"Maybe he was looking for a snack," Dro'Barri smirked as he ignored the several glares that came his way. "It matters not. We are here, yes? Let us stop thinking the 'why' and start thinking 'how much treasure lies within'," he purred, grinning wider when the Argonians nodded in approval.

"Sure, right until you open the door and get blasted by some weird vampire trap," Ahtar rolled his eyes." We are dealing with a building protected by a Master level sorcerer, not to mention what else the Dragonborn left to protect her home."

"Ah, ignore his mewling, this one wishes to open the chest!"

"NO!"

Ligorn's arrow barely missed the khajiit by a millimetre, the shaft burying itself into the wooden door. He lowered his bow as the fellow thief hissed at him.

"That is what Nocturnal was telling me. I highly doubt the Dragonborn would leave just one layer of protection to deter robbers and the like. That door will have a trap on it. As will every other door within. We go through slowly, door by door. We cannot rush into the dragon's maw without caution."

Darvasa nodded.

"Ligorn, Dro'Barri, Alexate and Amusei. You are our 'experts'. You work on the front door. The rest of us, we ensure that the exterior of the house is secure. Once you get through the door, yell for us and we go in. _Slowly."_

Larorian smiled as the others followed Darvasa's instructions. He slowly followed the dunmer and worked hard to stop the grin that tried to form on his face. He was one step closer to exacting revenge on the one who had killed his mother, all those years ago...

* * *

_Morndas, 3__rd__ of Frost Fall, 2E 240, Alinor, Summerset Isles_

"_Stay here, Larorian! Do you understand me? Stay right here, no matter what!"_

_Larorian nodded in fear as his mother and father stood up, leaving their only son to hide beneath the massive bed. The sound of dragons permeated the air, only to be drowned out by the noises of the dying outside._

_The Dragonborn had come to the Summerset Isles._

_He knew the stories. They all had. How Skyrim had somehow defeated the might of the Thalmor, first in the failed invasion of Skyrim and then the defeat of three brigades within Cyrodiil itself. The Thalmor had then lost control of every province they had held, Hammerfell somehow defeating their masters despite being outnumbered ten to one. Black Marsh and High Rock fell soon afterwards, the glorious armies of the superior race losing ground every day._

_Yet the Summerset Isles remained strong, thousands of ships protecting the seas, none thought even a swarm of dragons could get through the blockade._

_But they had. It hadn't been a mere swarm of dragons. It had been thousands of them, tearing through the ships with ease, the red dragon at the front with the vampires leading the charge._

_Alinor was the last city to be attacked, the remaining refuge of the Thalmor._

_Larorian grimaced as his mother and father ripped open the door and charged into the mass of undead corpses that awaited them, their crafted elven blades carving through the reanimated bodies with ease. For a moment, he thought they would prevail._

_Then a blade embedded itself into his father's chest before pulling out and decapitating him. His mother had screamed when a pale hand grasped her throat and twisted, the sound of a broken neck shortly following._

_He had stayed silent as the undead shuffled around the room aimlessly before vanishing in to piles of ash._

_And that was when he saw them._

_One was tall, wearing black armour that hugged her curves, two dragonbone daggers strapped to her thighs. She had well defined cheekbones and had long black hair that framed an attractive face. With two burning suns for eyes._

_He whimpered into his hand as he glanced at the other, the one holding the blade that had skewered his father. She was shorter than the other and wore the same type of armour. Her eyes were black, however, and had wisps of smoke oozing from her body._

"_That's the last of the Internal Council members. Just Herself left now, my love," the tall one said as she caressed the short one's face gently._

"_Good. I shall call Odahviing here and we can get going. That bitch has been alive long enough," the other snarled, causing Larorian's skin to goosebump from the sheer violence that spewed from her foul mouth._

"_And him?"_

_His breath caught as both vampires stared right at him, small smirks forming on their faces._

"_Leave him, we have work to do."_

_He could only stare as they vanished from the room in clouds of smoke, leaving him alone on his home with only his deceased parents for company..._

* * *

"Larorian?"

He smiled as Darvasa walked over.

"Sorry my dear, just trying to gather my thoughts."

Darvasa gave him an impish smile.

"Hope you got your head straight. Ligorn and the others just called us over."

"You mean..."

Darvasa wrapped an arm around one of his and escorted him to their destination.

"I only thought it fitting that you and I go in first. You were the only one who agreed with my terms without adding additional _fees _after all."

He smiled.

_If only you knew, my dear._

"Lead on, My Lady," he said with a sneer that she couldn't see.

Everything was going to plan...

* * *

**AN: Oooooh, the mystery deepens :) Feel free to leave a comment or send a message. Working on Chapter 3 now! Godnamet is back! Muhahaha :D**


	3. Chapter 3: Revelations

**AN: Thanks for the feedback. Fair warning, there be spoilers here, yarrrrrrrr...Okay, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

There was a moment of absolute silence as the group entered the Dragonborn's home. Darvasa stared at the neat cabinets that lay on both sides of the wall, a small firepit in the centre of the antechamber and, amazingly enough, three cuttings of frost mirriam leaves. She hadn't been the only one to notice this either.

"They shouldn't be there," Ligorn muttered. "They should be dust by now, like the rest of the room."

That much was true. A thick layer of dust lay on every surface within, including the leaves. Larorian moved closer and ran his finger along one of the leaves, and smirked when it crumbled into dust the moment his skin touched it.

"The dust replaced the organic material. It's been known to happen in a few ruins I have been to. Cloud Ruler Temple in Cyrodiil for one," he explained as he moved closer to the double doors that would lead them into the house itself. He patted Darvasa's arm gently and she released him before nodding to their 'experts' to test the door for hidden traps.

Dro'Barri snarled as he and the others began to examine the door.

"Three, four, five... how many traps did the paranoid bitch put on here?" he muttered, his hands alight with illusion magic.

"Twelve in all," Alaxate and Amusei chorused with matching chuckles as they began to crack each rune embedded within the ancient door frame.

The others stayed silent, knowing that the 'experts' needed time and silence to work. With twelve people crammed into the antechamber, it wasn't long before tempers started to fray.

"How much longer?" Dro'Barri cursed, idly inspecting his claws.

"You want to be set on fire?" Ligorn snorted. "Because this trap is set to do exactly that."

"It's taken three of you two hours working on one single fucking rune," Frodar snarled, his massive biceps twitching. "I thought you had brought experts?"

Darvasa closed her eyes for a moment, wondering exactly why she had brought some of these people here. Knowing she had to say something however, she opened her eyes and pointed at the double doors.

"Morgan Aurelius, or more likely, _Serana Volkihar_, placed these traps on those doors because of what we are doing. Make no mistake, we set out here to find answers. But to do that, we need to be careful. We are dealing with magical traps that are far beyond what they teach at magical conventions or even more secretive institutions," she began, her eyes flicking to the tall altmer standing at the far end of the room before smirking at how his eyes became suddenly larger than what they usually were.

She wasn't fooled by his concise way of speaking, nor was she cowed by his 'superiority complex'. She knew he had ties going hundreds of years back. She knew he was only there because he hated the Dragonborn. Speaking of which...

"How much longer. Time and gold are wasting," Eduard Marelus groused as he pulled his wife closer towards him.

Darvasa wasn't poor by any stretch of the imagination but in order to scout the vast lands of Skyrim, she had needed thousands of septims to pay for it all, gold she didn't have to spare. Eduard and Karina Marelus were not just rich, but stupidly so. Not only were they very close to the Emperor, they also had many business ties with the richest companies in all of Tamriel, including the Ghost Waves.

The Ghost Waves Group was an oceanic venture that had one mission. To explore the vast oceans of Nirn. Anything from shipwrecks, to sea creatures and on one amazing case of good fortune, finding an abandoned Sload nest west of High Rock that had led to a trove of not only necromancy tomes but also more diamonds than all of the mines in Morrowind combined.

The disaster of the 'Akavir Adventure' was a mere setback in the eyes of the Emperor and the Marelus Family, but in truth, they hadn't lost much in the way of capital when six ships and four hundred sailors went east to find the legendary lands of the dragons, only to return with one ship and only one sailor, who was half mad when the vessel crashed into the docks of Windhelm.

The sailor had lost half of his blood and had multiple bite marks on his throat, but it was his tale that had caught the attention of the entire continent. He had spoken of sea creatures with long tentacles that had dragged two ships under the water within seconds, a mysterious storm that had appeared out of nowhere that had sunk three more. The last ship had managed to make landfall to Akavir however.

Darvasa shuddered when she recalled seeing the massive Imperial warship on the shoreline. There had been carvings drawn into the wood, far too neat to have been anything but made by mortal hands. It had taken two years to decipher the carvings, and the message that had been written was now familiar to anyone who had happened to take note of the venture. It was a message that Darvasa ran through her mind as they watched the curse breakers finish their work, the final rune trap being dismantled and giving them access to the Dragonborn's home.

_You look but cannot see. You think but cannot understand. You listen but cannot hear. But most importantly, you forget that which you already know. The lands of the East are not yours to tread, for they belong to that of the Dragon Blood, the Blood of the Ancient Ones. Heed our warning. For if another warship crosses the seas and onto our shores, then we, the Tsaesci, will have no choice but to cross the seas once more to spill blood in the name of our Queen and that of the Last of the Dragon Blood._

Darvasa knew a threat when she saw one, but she also knew that beneath the posturing, there was another message within that no-one else had thought about. Watching the others file into the Main Hall, she shivered once more.

There were records of the Tsaesci at the Second Battle of Whiterun, the battle where the Thalmor had tried and failed to kill the Jarl of Whiterun. It was also when the Dragonborn had returned from her mysterious travels to Solstheim and where her true power had been unleashed.

None knew what conversations had transpired after the battle, but Darvasa knew that at some point, the vampire-like serpents had spoken to the Dragonborn. What none knew however, was the promise that the Dragonborn had made all those years ago...

* * *

"This is more like it!" Frodar roared as he stared at the Main Hall in awe.

A beautiful marble table lay within, along with marble chairs and an obsidian fireplace. Ornate chandeliers hung overhead, small glittering diamonds sparkling despite the lack of light inside. The Nord grinned as the mages rectified this, small wall candle being lit after hundreds of years, bathing the massive room in warm light. There were three more double doors, yet unlike the one they had entered, they were open.

"Wait. Check the floors near the door entrances. They could have placed runes in the stonework," Ligorn said as he pushed past the now flustered Nord, his keen eyes finding one such rune partially hidden in the door frame that led into the kitchen.

"Yep, got two here," Amusei hissed at the bedroom entrance.

"Another three here," Alaxate said a second later, his tail swishing as he crept along the floor.

"And another three on this side as well. Serana didn't fuck around, did she?" Ligorn sniggered as he started working on the runes.

"Alright, everyone else sit down. None go upstairs until all of the downstairs area is clear," Darvasa instructed. "Angeline, make sure that these doors here stay open. Wedge them there if you have to. There's no way of knowing if these runes have a timer or switch."

The thieves and tomb robbers grinned in approval. It was nice to have an employer who actually had half a brain.

Darvasa trailed off her instructions when she spotted the massive painting within the master bedroom. While Amusei was still working on the runes, everyone could still see the painting as clear as daylight. It was Karina that spoke first.

"No dust. At all."

"Another blood spell no doubt," Ligorn said over his shoulder as he worked. "I mean, if the outside of the house looked undamaged by time, then it stands to reason that Serana Volkihar would do the same on the inside as well."

There were murmured agreements on his statement as Darvasa stared at the painting. Morgan Aurelius and Serana Volkihar were standing in the centre, both wearing flowing red dresses. Sitting on its haunches in front of the two vampires was a colossal white wolf, three times larger than a regular one. Sitting on each side of the wolf were two small children, who had their arm draped over the wolf's shoulders.

"Crazy kids," Ahtar muttered. "That wolf could rip them apart in seconds."

Standing to the right of the Dragonborn was what could only be her mother, her small stature dwarfed by the warrior standing beside her. Clad in steel plate armour with a dragonbone blade strapped to her hip, Darvasa instantly recognised Lydia Storm-Sword, one of the Dragonborn's closest friends if the ancient records were to be believed.

Standing on the other side, next to Serana Volkihar, were the two figures that would cause a revolutionary change in the Companions' way of life and ideals. Aela the Huntress wore a wolfish grin while the young yet strong warrior she held in her arms could only be Jordis the Sword-Maiden, who also wore steel plate armour. A stark contrast to the little clothing that the Huntress wore.

Darvasa knew that they had been friends, but if the painting were anything to go by, they were much closer than that. Shaking her head, she scowled at the diminutive figure of Queen Elisif the Fair, who stood next to the much taller warriors with a small smile, her long white dress a stark contrast to the red ones of the Dragonborn and her sire.

"I don't think she was a vampire back then," Larorian spoke up, his eyes still flicking to Darvasa every so often. "The records stated that happened years after the Fall of the Thalmor."

"Heh, another way of saying 'the elves got their arses handed to them'," Angeline snorted, ignoring the flaring nostrils of the tall elf. Darvasa had not been the only one to note of his twitchiness it seemed.

"Who is that?"

Darvasa quickly consulted her notes before gasping. The dunmer sitting next to one of the children wore the clothes that a College of Winterhold Apprentice used to wear, but Darvasa knew who this person was.

Brelyna Maryon was a name that parents used to this very day to terrify children into behaving themselves, both in public and in private. The elf had been shunned by her parents and she had travelled to the College to make a name for herself. And at some point, she had lost her mortality to the Dragonborn and no records had been made of her since. Save one obscure report that had been made ten years ago.

"Damn, that's messed up," Ahtar muttered as he spotted the dunmer in the painting. "What was that rumour again?"

"Seventeen deaths in Honeyduke Manor on the edge of Riften. Twelve adults, the rest were children," Karina scowled. "The adults were killed by magic, the children... there were no physical marks on them, but their magic had been drained, their faces locked in a smile. And only one person had been seen near the Manor that day."

"A dunmer woman wearing old College robes," Larorian finished quietly.

Then everyone stared at the painting at the red dragon that was perched on the very roof that hung over their heads. The dragon wore several scars on his face and body, including tears in his wings that could only have been made by other dragons. But it was his eyes that terrified them all. They seemingly stared right back at the group as though Odahviing could see them.

"And that's just plain creepy. Come on, we can help the others with the runes and then we can start exploring a little," Darvasa ordered, the others following close behind.

None of them noticed the way that every single pair of eyes on the painting suddenly glowed a soft green before reverting back to normal...

* * *

Darvasa sighed in relief as the last of the traps on the doors were removed. Motioning to the others to sit down, she started taking notes.

"Larorian, you start first if you would," she asked.

Larorian smiled and stood up before gently clearing his throat.

"The painting has more enchantments on it than I could recognise. Some are for preserving the canvas and paint from time, others are there to prevent its removal from the wall. A blood barrier very similar to the one outside protects it, yet this smaller one is much more deadly."

"Meaning?" Darvasa asked in a little trepidation.

"Well, the one outside is ten times weaker in comparison," he replied bluntly. Ignoring the gasps and murmurs, he pressed on. "If you were to stick your hand through that barrier, you would lose your arm in less than _two seconds_. I feel as though the Dragonborn placed considerable value on the painting."

"Yeah, well we might be able to get around that issue," Ligorn spoke up, ignoring Darvasa's sighs. At her quiet nod, Larorian sat down and the small bosmer stood up.

"I believe these blood barriers and runes are to prevent theft, but what I found strange was this small trinket box that resided on the small table next to the master bed."

He opened the box and every person blinked in amazement at what they saw. A stunning artefact lay in soft red velvet, a soft blue barrier surrounding a well-known item of Daedric lore.

"Azura's Star..." Darvasa managed to squeak out.

"Here's the thing, I cannot physically touch it. Every time I get close, an invisible force pushes it away. I nearly broke one of my fingers trying," Ligorn added in a small grin. "Plainly, Azura wishes to keep the Star in the hands of her last known Champion."

"I would have thought the Star would be in a place more secure," Larorian said quietly, his eyes fixed on the Star.

"That's another thing I wanted to mention. There's an enchantment on the Star that is more complex than anything I have ever seen. It's like the Star is, well... _fixed_ onto the box itself. Even if the barrier were to be removed, the Star would still reside in this box. I doubt even dragon fire would penetrate the magic that protects it," Ligorn ended with a worried expression.

"Alaxate, Amusei?" Darvasa asked, turning to the two Argonians.

"This magic is dangerous. Volatile and downright terrifying," Amusei hissed in worry, holding the others hand in her own.

"Little Miss Volkihar knew what she was doing, I can tell you that much. These runes we have been deactivating? They are blood triggered in nature. That means," he added with a grin to the hulking Frodar and Bargrug, who had been about to interrupt, "Only those who shares blood with the Dragonborn can permanently get rid of them."

"What my dear Alaxate is trying to say is that the dozens of runes we have dealt with are all deactivated, not removed. We need to be very careful from now on. Always keep the doors open, block them open if you have to with something heavy, but do not allow the doors to close. If that happens, we will have to deactivate them again." Amusei said with a stern tone of voice, her eyes flicking to every member of the group.

"Thank you, "Darvasa said before raising an eyebrow to Dro'Barri.

The khajiit grinned at her as he stood up.

"The cellar still has a working ale tap," he began, smirking more so when nearly every member started cheering. "I also found a forge, workbench and all manner of things. Oh, and there was a coffin."

He chuckled as many exclamations permeated the air.

"Nothing in there though, not even a pair of female vampire underwear."

"Angeline?" Darvasa turned to the young battlemage, ignoring the male chuckling and rolling her eyes while doing so.

"That garden is a mystery. Crimson nirnroot was a surprise but I found other, equally exotic ingredients not native to Skyrim out there," she said in bewilderment.

"Such as?" Larorian inquired.

"Wolfsbane for one. That hasn't been seen in Skyrim for thousands of years. A strange yellow flower that pushed out poisonous fumes when I got close. I believe it to be from a plane of Oblivion if my notes are anything to go by," Darvasa explained, having been to the garden also.

"Spiddal flowers are only found in Oblivion," Angeline nodded. "They release a very poisonous chemical that can cause major lung damage and has even been known to set small fires. A rather odd plant to grow in a garden."

"Then there's a plant that tried to attack us," Darvasa said softly. Ignoring the questions being yelled at her, she stood up. "The plant covers half of the wall and moves as though it is alive, long tendrils of vines that are limp at first but try and wrap around you as you get close. Good thing Angeline were there otherwise I wouldn't be here."

She glared at the others, knowing it needed to be said.

"Everyone stays together in groups of three or more. No wandering off, no poking things that look out of place. The beds are clean of dust so we all have a place to sleep, even though a few may need to share, but we can work around that. Make sure everything is catalogued for now. The doors are to be wedged open. Bargrug and Frodar? Muscle work for you two."

The Nord and Orc grinned to each other.

"Get that forge working, start making a few ingots in case we need them. The ores in the cellar aren't trapped so feel free to use them. Eduard, Karina? Try and find anything relating to the Dragonborn. A journal or diary perhaps? Try the bookshelves and chests and keep any chests open in case the traps reactivate."

"Ligorn, Dro'Barri, Alaxate and Amusei? See of you can get a few of these locked containers and safes open and document anything you find. Traps, runes, markings, anything to identify future 'surprises'," Darvasa rattled off orders, hiding a smile when those mentioned scurried off to start work.

"Larorian, Angeline, Ahtar? Follow me. I found something in the trophy room at the back and I wanted your input on the matter."

* * *

"Darvasa? What's going on?" Angeline asked the moment the three of them entered the trophy room.

Darvasa shook her head and pointed to the dragon skull that was perched on a marble display plinth. At first glance, it seemed to be a regular sized dragon skull, measuring around eight feet in length. And then Angeline noticed the two green crystals that were fixed in place within the eye sockets.

"_What the fuck_?"

Darvasa grimaced as Ahtar looked at them both with a puzzled expression, his scarred eye narrowing as he looked at the two crystals.

"Ahtar. I hate to be so rude, but... when you were attacked by that vampire? Did she wear a necklace? Green gem inside?"

There was a second before the massive Redguard flinched in fear and anger, his eyes now fixed on the two shimmering jewels.

"The vampire had a small necklace on her throat. Light green and pulsating with magic," he breathed out slowly, clenching his fists.

"These jewels were worn by members of the Dragonguard, close allies to the Dragonborn herself," Darvasa explained, her eyes not meeting the now angry man before her. "Only two were found. Hadvar of Riverwood wore his even until his death."

"And the other?"

Darvasa shivered before replying.

"The only other person recorded to having worn one was...," Darvasa trailed off.

"Elisif," he snarled.

There was a moment before Angeline spoke again.

"She's alive?! But... I thought she had been killed centuries ago! She took six crossbow bolts to the chest and three to her skull, and that was after she slaughtered forty-two elite Palace guards."

Ahtar shook his head. Everyone knew how the Mad Queen had attacked Emperor Amaund Motierre, and had gone on to rampage through the sacred grounds of the White Gold Tower in the Imperial City, leaving blood and gore strewn in her wake. It had taken an immense loss of life to corner and kill the creature, yet many had asked why the body hadn't been burned.

"It makes sense now. She had no heirs yet it was the Dragonborn who requested her return. Well, more like a demand. And after what she and her dragon friends did to the Thalmor, who dared stop her? But I had been poking around the ruins of the Order of Vigilant headquarters in Cyrodiil at that time and I figured I was far enough away from the carnage to link it all together, but until now I never made the connection. It was a dark night but I should have known better than to adventure there alone, having heard the tales of 'blood moon' skies and the 'wailing of tormented souls', but now..."

He glanced at the nervous leader and gave her a small smile, allowing his blood to simmer down. Placing his massive hands over hers, he gave her an embrace, whispering in her ear.

"You have given me purpose once more. And this time, I will make sure that the vampire bitch stays dead if she turns up here. And if I find out who kept her alive, I will kill them too."

"Why do you say that?" Darvasa whispered back, giving Angeline a small shake of her head as the battlemage attempted to step closer.

"Those crystals are from the Vaults of Hammerfell. A gift to the Dragonborn for her 'loyal service' to dealing with the Thalmor regime," he explained as he ended the embrace, his hands now resting on her shoulders. "They were said to be linked to smaller crystals, a means to communicate vast distances instantly. Not only that, they were said to be able to link souls of warriors together, preventing death for any who wore a crystal connected to these."

He sighed. "But destroying them is impossible, thousands had tried without success. But maybe we can do something more practical with them," he trailed off thoughtfully.

Darvasa grinned.

"Then let us see what we can do with them," she said with a glint in her beautiful eyes.

* * *

Many miles away, in a large cave buried under the Arch of Solitude, lay a medium sized coffin, surrounded bones and torn armour pieces. Inside the coffin, was a person wearing a long white silk dress and a small green crystal necklace hung from her neck. Long blond hair covered the face, her skin pale and wrinkled with time. A second after Darvasa touched one of the green crystals with a traditional magical probe, two orange eyes suddenly opened, a fanged grin appearing on that beautiful and emaciated face...

* * *

**AN: hehehehe I am evil aren't I? ;)**


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